


dance with a whimsical pride

by mallory



Category: Chicago PD (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gender-neutral Reader, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, M/M, Other, Reader-Insert, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-29 19:31:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18784735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mallory/pseuds/mallory
Summary: “What about me? What about what I deserved?” You glare at him, standing mere feet from you—too far to touch him but close enough to ache for it. “I didn’t want to be with someone who’d rather sleep with his demons than with me.”





	dance with a whimsical pride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LovelyMelody](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyMelody/gifts).



> —who prompted ‘Asido’ by Purity Ring, which is where the title comes from. Even though it doesn’t fit in with the song, happy endings all around.
> 
> In this fic you and Jay happened in place of Linstead.

“Last call!” Otis says over the quiet din of the patrons left. It’s a surprising mix of people for a Friday night; the older regulars, some Firehouse 51 firefighters with the doctors from Chicago Med, and a couple of guys who’ve moved in on a small table of women.

You pop the caps to a couple beers and hand them over the bar to the customer. “Here you go.” You collect the cash and scoot between Otis and the back bar to reach the cash register.

“Hey,” he says, throwing a rag over his shoulder. “Can you take my shift tomorrow?”

“Yeah, no problem.” It’s not like you have anything better to do. Molly’s is actually the only place you feel safe in this city. Maybe it’s the twinkle lights hanging from the ceiling, or the amiable company of your co-workers. Maybe it’s the first place that made you feel welcome and wanted after four years in an emotionally isolating relationship. You don’t know where you’d be without the hospitality of these compassionate firefighters.

Stella steps over with a frown. “Look who just came in.”

You turn, and a chill runs down your back as you meet Jay’s gaze.

He looks good. Too good. The bulk of his jacket only highlights his athletic frame, and his hair’s shorter. There’s something lighter about him too, and you don’t even dare wonder exactly why that is.

God, when was the last time you saw him? A year ago, the night before you packed your things while he was at work. He was passed out in bed, his sleeping face slack with exhaustion. It was clear he’d had a tough case, but you knew better by then than to ask about it. And you just couldn’t do it anymore. You were just a warm body for him to snuggle up to.

Otis squeezes your shoulder. “Do you want to go out back?”

Something in Jay’s posture tenses, and you turn your back on him to smile away your friends’ concern. “No, I’m fine. I can handle it.”

You approach the front end of the bar, pulling your shoulders back as he takes a seat.

“Hi,” he says, clasping his hands on the bar.

“What are you doing here?”

He licks his lips, thumb rubbing his palm. “I wanted to see you.”

You lift a brow. “At one in the morning.”

“How are you?” His brows pinch with sincerity, a hesitant smile pulling the corner of his mouth.

“Great. You?”

He heaves a breath. “I’m seeing a shrink.”

“Good for you.”

“You were right. It’s going great.”

His gaze flicks to your mouth, as if waiting for more. But what does he expect you to say? It’s none of your business now. For four years, you’d encourage him to see someone, but he’d only brush you off. “I don’t need it,” he’d say, voice hoarse from the screams that woke you both, skin shining in the light from the bedside lamp, and eyes still cloudy from whatever memory haunted him that night.

He clears his throat and shifts. “Doc has me opening up about stuff I never knew still bothered me.”

“Jay.” You sigh. “I’m happy for you and everything, but unless you want a drink, I don’t know what you want from me.”

Sad eyes meet yours, and your throat throbs with regret—of the words you said and the ones you never dared to. “I’ll get a beer.”

“Zombie Dust,” you chorus, and you nod.

“Coming right up.” You leave him to grab a bottle and return to find a woman sat beside him. She’s attractive, certainly too pretty to be seen in a bar like this. Her manicured nail glides along his strong jawline, and whatever she says has the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement.

You couldn’t have been gone for more than two minutes and already she’s flirting up a storm—not that you blame her; Jay Halstead is one gorgeous specimen. With those earnest green eyes, charming freckles, his good heart and protective instincts, it’s hard to not love him. To still love him.

Clenching your teeth, you stride toward them and barely place the bottle in front of him before whirling around to begin cleaning up for the night. You busy yourself wiping down the bar and turning the bottles on the shelves to face the label forward. Every now and then, giggles erupt from the end of the bar, and it takes everything inside of you not to look.

What’s his game? To show you how better off is after you walked out on him?

Stella grabs your arm. “Oh no, he _isn’t_.”

“Wha—Ow, Kidd.” You pull your arm from her grip, only for her to grab your shoulders and spin you around. Your heart sinks as Jay holds the door open for the woman, a hand on the small of her back guiding her out. He follows after her, and the door swings closed.

“Imma whoop that boy’s ass,” she says, brows jumping as she nods, her lips curled with a fierce promise.

You can’t even bring yourself to smile at the ridiculous image of Stella bouncing on her toes around a confused Jay.

“What was he even doing here?”

You shrug, frowning down at the rag in your hands. “Whatever. Let’s just finish up, I’m beat.”

While Otis herds the last of the stragglers out and locks up behind them, Stella stacks glasses in the dishwasher in the back and you wipe down the tables and put up the chairs. You reach the bar where Jay’s beer sits, a fifty dollar bill beside it. You hand the note to Otis, who’s counting tonight’s cash up, and take the beer to the back, pour the rest down the sink and drop the bottle in the recycling tub beside it.

You’re about the grab the mop when Stella yanks it from your reaching hand.

“Hey,” she says. “Why don’t you head home?” She lifts her chin and purses her lips. “Get outta here.”

You’re about to protest when a yawn gets you, and she laughs. “Okay,” you say. “Thanks.” You grab your things and poke your head through the door to bid Otis a goodnight, who wishes you a safe drive home. You head out through the back, grabbing the heavy garbage bag on the way.

The cold night pricks the back of your nose as you check the door is locked behind you. The lights above you flicker. You across the alley to heave the bag into the pungent dumpster. A siren wails in the distance. Wiping your hands on your pants, you head out to the side of the building where you parked your car.

Turning the corner, you freeze at the shadowy figure leaning against it. There’s a streetlight a few feet behind, but the shadows it casts obscure his features.

He turns his head your way and pushes off the car. The light shines on his profile, and you unclench with a shaky breath. “Hey,” Jay calls softly, his voice hollow in the dead of the night.

You scurry over, because you’re cold, not to be closer to him. “What are you doing, loitering like a creep.”

The corners of his mouth twitch. “The front door was locked.”

“Because we’re closed. I threw the rest of your beer out.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not why I came back.”

A rush of wind howls down the street, and you push a cheek into a shoulder as it bites at your exposed skin.

“I miss you,” Jay murmurs.

You roll your lips together because you miss him too. You miss him so much—his laugh, the little morning kisses he’d press to your temple before rolling out of bed, how he’d strut around your apartment in his underwear oozing male confidence, the sweet texts he’d send you throughout the day, crawling into the strength of his arms after a long night. You miss it all, but you’d be damned if you tell him that. Instead, you say: “I would’ve thought you hate me.”

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I did. Do you know what it’s like coming home to find all your things gone?” His voice breaks, and you turn your face away from the hurt pinching his.

He’d texted you later that night, frantic messages asking you where you were, and when all you texted back was that you were safe and you couldn’t be with him anymore, he called. But you couldn’t pick up, you couldn’t bear to hear his voice, to hear him ask you not to leave.

He drops his head. “I know I was shitty to you.” He glances up at you, brows furrowed. “I didn’t blame you for leaving, but I hated you for leaving the way you did. _Why_?” The one word, punched out with such anger, so much vigor—It surprises you into looking at him. There’s a fire smouldering in his eyes, one that looks too much like betrayal.

Where was this passion when you were together? When you were on your last leg, silently imploring him to just let you in? Nothing hurt more than his cold shoulder, the way he’d push aside your worries as easily as he did his trauma.

The fire in his gaze burns out, leaving behind a crestfallen downturn in the corners of his eyes. The asphalt crunches as he takes a step forward. “Why couldn’t you have given me the courtesy of saying it to my face? I deserved that, at least.”

You laugh, a sharp bark that echoes in the alley. “What about _me_? What about what I deserved?” You glare at him, standing mere feet from you—too far to touch him but close enough to ache for it. “I didn’t want to be with someone who’d rather sleep with his demons than with me. You were emotionally unavailable when it suited you, and it made me so lonely. I loved you, Jay.” You soften your voice. “I loved you so much, but I was lonely, hurt and afraid.”

His face falls. “Afraid? Of me?”

There were times, moments when he’d be staring into nothing, and when you’d touch him, a savage expression would consume his face, glaring at you with hatred. Or nights when he’d whimper and twitch in his sleep, and when you’d try to wake him, he’d cry out like you’re torturing him.

A cat screeches, it’s echo harrowing.

You wrap your arms around yourself. “Of you, for you. It was all scary.”

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, his arms tense like he’s curling his fingers into fists, hunching his shoulders. “If I’d known—I would have fixed things.”

“But not because you wanted to do it; to get better.” You shake your head. “You want to know why I left without telling you? Because you would have asked me to stay. And I would have.”

He drops his gaze and shuffles his feet.

In your relationship, you were the fidgeter. With his military background, Jay possesses an unwaveringly poised bearing (though he has a tendency to slouch when sitting). You used to tease him about the stick up his ass with the way he held himself. Seeing him like this now—almost as if there’s a weight in his chest and he’s struggling to hold himself upright—you eat up the distance between you.

His thick lashes flutter as you cup the side of his face with a broken gentleness of a love once lost. “I’m so proud of you.” You smile as he meets your eyes, his fingers curling around your wrist and hanging onto you like he is your words. “You look good out of the shadows.”

He jerks his head. “Let me take you home.”

You shudder. What you wouldn’t give to have those green eyes staring down at you, the splash of freckles across his nose playing in the light as his firm body moves above you. But you shake your head. “That’s not a good idea.” You drop your hand, and his grip slides down your wrist to catch your fingers.

“Why not?”

You pull away from his warm grip. “Because we’re lonely.”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

You raise your brows. “No? You drove all the way over here late in the night to tell me you miss me. Then you spend it flirting with the first person who pays you any attention and leave with her—”

“To put her into an Uber. She was drunk, and I helped her get home safe. Look, I’ve made a lot of mistakes and I’m paying for them, some more than others… But I’m here now because I’m ready. I want to try again, for real. I want _you_.” He takes a step forward, and his eyes soften. “Let me prove it to you.”

“How?”

He holds out a hand, palm up. Pleading eyes bore into yours.

And god, you so badly want to reach out, to fall back into him. It’s been a year. But you never stopped caring about him, never stopped worrying about his mental health. But can you go back to this? Is it the right thing to do, not only for you but for him too?

He says your name in a soft plea, and you can’t resist; you slip your hand into his. He tugs you toward him.

Your eyes flutter as he cups your cheek, and his forehead touches yours.

“Let’s go,” he whispers.

You nod.

He leads you around your car to the passenger side. “Keys?”

You dig them out and hand them over. He unlocks your car and opens the door for you, but before you get in, you ask, “Where’s your car?”

He purses his lips. “At your place?”

You snort. “That’s presumptuous of you.”

He chuckles. “More like hopeful.”

Slipping in, you blindly buckle in as Jay closes the door and jogs around to the driver’s side. There’s a stupid smile on his face—but you’re not one to judge; there’s one of your own stretching across yours.

The car rocks as he falls into the seat, and he starts the engine.

“How’d you get here if your car’s at mine?”

“I walked.”

It’s a ten minute walk from your apartment to Molly’s, and you’d walk to work yourself if not for how late it is when your shift ends.

“I needed the time to think,” he continues, cruising through the deserted streets. The street lights flicker in and out of the cabin in the car.

You shift around in your seat for a better look at his profile. There’s a dark smattering of his stubble, and the gliding shadows play on his sharp jawline and nose. “Oh?”

“I had this whole speech in my head.” He glances at you. “Of course, the moment I saw you, my mind went blank.”

You exhale a quiet laugh. “And what was in this speech?”

“It was a ramble of I miss you’s and I’m a dick, and ended with me asking if I could buy you breakfast in the morning.” He stops at a red light, and your gazes meet.

Four minutes later, Jay pushes you against your front door and swallows your moan with tingly, desperate kisses. Hands roam down your sides, fingers curling with possessive squeezes.

You wrap your arms around his neck, hauling the strength of his body against yours. You shudder as his groan vibrates against your lips.

He mumbles your name and pulls away. Your eyes flutter open to his gentle smile, bracketed by deep grooves in his cheeks. He runs a finger down the side of your face, so light and smooth compared to the fierce and prickly kiss. “Goodnight.”

You blink. “What?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” He says your favourite breakfast food. “Yeah?”

“I thought… You’re not…?”

Jay smirks, a wide, cocky smile that makes you bristle. “I’m not what, baby? Coming in?” He braces a forearm above your head, taking a step forward and brushing against you in all the right places. “I’m proving things will be different this time, remember?”

You arch your back, bringing your bodies closer, firmer, and he trembles against you. “By leaving me high and dry?”

He chuckles and cups the side of your face. “By letting our feelings catch up to our hormones.” With a lingering kiss to your temple, he smiles, this one full of affection and amusement.

You trace the curve of his bottom lip, and his smile softens into a tenderness reserved for moments when there’s nothing between the two of you, breaths mingling as you move in an intimate dance that’s all hips and hands.

His eyes flicker down to your chest as it heaves with heavy breaths. A longing in his gaze mirrors the one tugging your chest. You’re about to pull him closer, just needing to anchor yourself, when he draws back.

The heat leaves you shivering and a little bit fractured.

He hands you back your keys, and the metal jingles softly as its jagged edges cut into your palm. “Sweet dreams.”

 

**_~ &~_ **

 

Bright and early the next morning, you shuffle to the front door with squinty eyes. You open the door to Jay’s smiling face.

“Morning, beautiful.”

**Author's Note:**

> Probably not my best work, since I’m still learning how to write Jay. Any feedback on his characterisation would be greatly appreciated!
> 
> If you’d like to send me prompts, join **[the discord server](https://discord.gg/8nbc6Rw)** (note: you’ll need to create an account).
> 
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